


Teething problems

by HellsFiction



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Cock Warming, Coming In Pants, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom!Jaskier, Dom/sub, Established, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Good BDSM ettiquette, Light BDSM, M/M, Next chapter we will have:, Overstimulation, PWP, Praise Kink, Smut, Spanking, Sub Drop, in this house we support communication, safe gestures, shifting pov, sub!geralt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsFiction/pseuds/HellsFiction
Summary: Staying in Oxenfurt, surrounded by strangers and easily overstimulated with his sharp senses, Geralt finds solace in the familiarity of Jaskier.Fortunately, Jaskier always knows just what he needs.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 274





	Teething problems

**Author's Note:**

> If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

Oxenfurt in Winter was bitterly cold, horribly crowded, and almost bereft of work for a moody Witcher.

Normally, Geralt would be in Kaer Morhen by now, helping Eskel and Vesemir clean the dust of an entire year out of the keep and bitching at Lambert when he refused to help. But unseasonably early snowfall had prevented Geralt from making his way through the mountain pass. On his own, he could battle through it, but he would freeze to death before he left Roach behind for the entire Winter.

So, hoping that the others realised why he wasn’t coming this year and didn’t assume that he had died on the path, he retreated and made his way back to Oxenfurt, where he had dropped Jaskier off two weeks before. The bard had been delighted to see him so soon and insisted that Geralt live with him in his winter accommodation.

It was pleasant. Comfortable even.

Having the chance to ravish Jaskier whenever he wanted to didn’t hurt.

Unfortunately, Jaskier had to work, which left Geralt with nothing to do until he got back. He eagerly took any and every job that fell into his lap.

There were no such jobs on that particular day. Instead, Geralt ended up persuading some sailors on the Pontar river to let him help them haul their goods off their boats for a few Orens. The docks were loud, smelled of fish, and the constant coming and going of strangers kept him on edge. By the time he headed to the Academy to meet Jaskier, he was tired and irritable, and keen to just go home and sleep, away from curious eyes.

When he reached the Academy and made his way to Jaskier’s office, he was displeased to find that Jaskier was sat at his desk, working on a large pile of papers.

“You’re not ready to go?” He asked shortly. Jaskier hummed, not looking up from the paper he was reading.

“No, love, not yet, I’ve got marking to do,” He responded. “Alas, even lessons on the Seven Arts require essays. You can head home, I’ll meet you...” He trailed off when he finally lifted his eyes, spotting the sour expression on Geralt’s face. He blinked at the Witcher before smiling softly. “Bad day?” He asked. The Witcher grunted, and Jaskier chuckled softly and lent back. “Come here,” He instructed. After a moments hesitation, Geralt moved across the room to Jaskier’s side and knelt down at Jaskier’s feet. The bard hummed to himself.

More and more often recently, Geralt had been giving up control to Jaskier. It was a humbling gesture, what with how Geralt usually clung desperately to every shred of control he could grasp. Behind closed doors though, Geralt seemed happier to be himself, something Jaskier was only keen to encourage. If Geralt was in this particular mood after a stressful day, who was he to refuse?

“Oh, darling, look at you,” Jaskier crooned softly, parting his legs and encouraging Geralt to rest his head against his thigh and stroking a hand through his white hair. “You’re such a pretty little thing, Geralt,” He continued, combing through the long strands and gently untangling any knots he found, not missing the shiver at his praise. Geralt had at least stopped verbally disagreeing with him, but Jaskier raised an eyebrow when the Witcher shook his head slightly. “Oh, you are, love. You’re so pretty when you’re on your knees for me like this. You’re even prettier when your lips are bruised from my cock, or when my spend covers your face.” Geralt whined, and the bard chuckled softly, reaching behind Geralt’s head and removing his hair tie with careful fingers. The white strands fell around Geralt’s face, and Jaskier let out an adoring sigh.

Oh, the ballads he could write of the Witcher’s beauty if Geralt would just let him. He played with Geralt’s hair, humming a few bars to himself. Maybe it was best that he didn’t share Geralt’s beauty with the entire world. Jaskier was a selfish person by nature, and the thought of other people lusting over Geralt like he did, taking note of his lovely arse and bewitching lips?

No, thanks. Things were far better this way.

Clearly starting to get impatient, the Witcher turned his head to mouth at the bulge between Jaskier’s legs, and Jaskier curled his hand into Geralt’s hair and gave a small, warning tug: hard enough to sting, to pull Geralt’s head back and expose that delicious length of pale neck. “Not yet, love,” He murmured. “Not while I’m working. When we get home, then you can.” He watched when Geralt shivered at the mention of ‘home’. It was a word he had objected to at first: Witchers didn’t have _homes._ The most Geralt had was Kaer Morhen, but from listening to Geralt talk about the keep, Jaskier didn’t think Geralt considered that to be a ‘home’ either. Merely a place of rest.

That was why Jaskier had been so adamant on making his winter lodgings in Oxenfurt as cosy and welcoming as possible. He’d filled the small cottage on the outskirts of Oxenfurt with comfortable furniture, countless books, small potted herb plants that Geralt could tend and take care of and use in the kitchen.

The first time Geralt had accidentally called the cottage home, Jaskier had lavished adoring attention on him the moment they were behind closed doors, making full use of his mouth, fingers and cock, reducing Geralt to a whining puddle of lust and need as he brought him to orgasm, again and again, taking full advantage of his legendary stamina and short refractory period. Now, Geralt was much more willing to call it his home, no matter how temporary it may be. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it as much as Jaskier did, if that little shudder indicated anything.

“How long?” Geralt mumbled into Jaskier’s thigh, and the bard hummed, looking over the essays he was marking. It would be a while yet: He’d put this off for long enough, he really did need to get these finished…

At Jaskier’s hesitation, Geralt whined again, obviously predicting the answer. After a moment, Jaskier made his mind up. He didn’t see why Geralt should be punished because Jaskier got behind on work.

“It’s okay, beautiful,” He murmured, stroking Geralt’s hair. “I know, you just want something to put in your mouth, don’t you?” He pressed two fingers to Geralt’s lips, pale but plump and soft, and the Witcher parted them immediately and wrapped them around his fingers instead, licking and sucking them. For a moment, Jaskier considered just forgetting his work and bending Geralt over his knees to work him open, but he resolved himself. “Come here, darling,” He urged, smiling when Geralt whimpered as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth. “Oh, I know, but don’t worry, I’ll have something even better for you,” He encouraged, leading Geralt to kneel underneath his desk. The space there was just big enough for Geralt to rest between his legs, as long as he kept his head lowered into Jaskier’s lap. The other side of Jaskier’s desk had a wooden panel blocking his legs from view, so even if someone entered his office, they wouldn’t be able to see Geralt. Jaskier shifted and unlaced his breeches, pushing them down and pulling out his half-hard cock. Geralt eyed it hungrily.

“You’re going to put this in your mouth and keep it nice and warm for me, okay darling?” Jaskier murmured. Geralt opened his mouth willingly, and Jaskier slid into that hot, wet cavern, biting back a groan as he swelled to full hardness in Geralt’s mouth. He’d found out early on that part of the Witcher training meant getting rid of their gag reflex, so they didn’t throw up their vile tasting potions. Jaskier used this to full advantage in the past, and right now, encouraging Geralt to take more of him until his nose was buried in the tight curls at the base of Jaskier’s dick. “That’s right, good boy,” He praised, humming when Geralt’s moan at the praise sent vibrations through his cock. “You remember what to do if you get uncomfortable or overwhelmed?” He checked. Geralt nodded as much as he could with Jaskier’s dick in his mouth before reaching up to Jaskier’s thigh and patting it three times. Jaskier nodded approvingly. “Now just hold that for me,” He instructed, forcing himself to focus and turning his attention back to marking the essays.

It was tortuously slow work: every time Jaskier or Geralt shifted, his head would brush against the back of Geralt’s throat, silky soft and warm and wet, and Jaskier would have to take a moment to breathe before continuing. When Geralt started suckling on the dick in his mouth, clumsily working his lips around the thick shaft, Jaskier lowered one hand to brush through Geralt’s hair, approving and soft.

The restraint was worth it. Geralt seemed perfectly happy to hold Jaskier in his mouth for hours, occasionally shifting so he could bury his nose into Jaskier’s pubic hair, snuffling happily as he breathed in Jaskier’s scent. When Jaskier tilted his head to check on Geralt, his eyes were half shut, a blissful expression on his face. If they stayed like that for much longer, Jaskier was sure Geralt would start purring. He had only had the pleasure of hearing Geralt purr a few times in the past, and he could only imagine how _good_ that would feel with Geralt’s mouth on his prick.

Jaskier was finishing off one of the last essays when there was a knock on his office door, and he felt Geralt tense under the desk, that peaceful, sleepy atmosphere ruined. The human sighed – no purring now, it seemed – and pushed Geralt’s hair back from his face, gently encouraging the man before clearing his throat.

“Come in,” He called, and Geralt shivered under his hand.

The door was opened by a young man, who peeked his head in before entering fully. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Professor Pankratz,” He started, and Jaskier waved his free hand, still holding his quill.

“Jameson,” Jaskier greeted, recognising the young man from one of his classes. “Nonsense, I’m just marking essays, it’s dreadfully dull,” He encouraged. “Come in, have a seat,” he instructed, gesturing to the chair in front of him. “You’re saving me from a world of boredom, please. How can I be of service?”

Crouched between Jaskier’s thighs, Geralt started to breathe hard through his nose. The weight of Jaskier’s dick on his tongue was heavy and hot and comforting, the man’s musky smell addictive.

Part of him said that he should be annoyed that Jaskier had just invited someone else into the office. Instead, though, he was just painfully hard in his breeches, and he shifted to try and alleviate the pressure a little. In response, the hand in his hair tightened, reprimanding him, and Geralt settled again before experimentally trying to swallow, flexing his throat around Jaskier. Above him, Jaskier’s voice faltered before regaining strength, and Geralt considered this, working his lips around Jaskier as he did. His jaw was perfectly, deliciously sore, and moving his mouth like this sent shivers down to his dick. He kept it up, not listening to the voices above him. The hand in his hair loosened and started stroking his hair back again, an approving gesture that told Geralt to keep it up.

He tried his best, turning his head to give him a better angle and press even further down on Jaskier’s dick, humming at the strange feeling of Jaskier’s head pressing against the back of his throat. Jaskier’s voice stayed steady, but his fingers moved to cup Geralt’s cheek, slowly pushing him back. When Geralt’s lips were only wrapped around Jaskier’s head, the fingers moved to the back of Geralt’s head and pushed him back down in one quick motion, and Geralt groaned when he took all of Jaskier in his mouth again. Jaskier repeated the motion, dragging Geralt back and pushing him down, and Geralt shuddered.

Jaskier was using him as a hot, willing hole, fucking his mouth as he wanted, and Geralt wanted _more._ He brought up his left hand and squeezed Jaskier’s shin, his wordless confirmation that he was still fine. With that, Jaskier curled his fingers into his hair and started to pull him up and down his cock without a second of hesitation.

Geralt’s entire world focused on Jaskier’s lap, Jaskier’s dick fucking into his mouth, Jaskier’s fingers pulling his hair, Jaskier’s scent flooding his senses, and he didn’t even notice that the man Jaskier had been speaking to had left until Jaskier pulled his chair back, tugging Geralt along with him. He crawled after Jaskier, one hand slipping slightly as he did.

“Fuck, Geralt, that’s it, good boy,” Jaskier murmured, now holding Geralt’s head with both hands and thrusting up into his mouth. “Oh, there we go, you’re so good for me, Geralt, so fucking tight. You were _made_ for my cock, love, my perfect, pretty hole. You want my seed down your throat, Geralt?” He panted. Geralt made a choked, garbled noise around his dick and squeezed Jaskier’s shin with his left hand, his other hand reaching down to palm himself through his breeches, pleasure rising in his groin. He was hot and needy, and that pressure rose to a breaking point just as Jaskier pulled his head down into his lap and held him there as he came with a low groan, ropes of hot cum coating Geralt’s throat. The noise Geralt made was high and wrecked, and he slumped against Jaskier’s thigh when he was released and pulled off of Jaskier’s dick, breathing heavily. Jaskier stroked his hair, his own breathing rapid. Eventually, Jaskier shifted and looked down at him, and made a noise that was half-amused, half-disappointed.

“Oh, Geralt, look at you,” He chided. Geralt lifted his head to blink sleepily at Jaskier before glancing at himself, breath catching when he saw the damp, sticky stain on the front of his trousers. He’d brought himself to orgasm…

“’m sorry,” He mumbled, looking up at Jaskier, who hummed, petting his cheek, a glimmer of adoration and something darker, more thrilling, in his eyes.

“I know you are, gorgeous,” He purred. “You didn’t mean to cum, did you? But you did cum, without my permission as well. What do you think, Geralt? Do you deserve to be punished for that?”

Geralt considered this carefully. After a moment, he squeezed Jaskier’s shin. The bard smiled.

“Alright, love. When we get home, I’ll give you what you deserve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter: Jaskier shows Geralt what bad Witchers get, and Geralt experiences sub drop.
> 
> For a sneakpeek of the next chapter, see my Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hellsfiction


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